


Not Our Style

by Cuthalion97



Category: Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Cody teaches the Bad Batch, Commandos, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Team Dynamics, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:13:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29144259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cuthalion97/pseuds/Cuthalion97
Summary: "We'll do it your way, Captain. For Commander Cody."Why do the maverick commandos of Bad Batch listen to Cody, when they'll listen to no one else?What is the story behind how Cody earned their trust and respect?
Relationships: CC-2224 Cody and Clone Force 99, CC-2224 Cody and Crosshair, CC-2224 Cody and Hunter, CC-2224 Cody and Tech, CC-2224 Cody and Wrecker, Crosshair & Hunter & Tech & Wrecker (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Crosshair & Hunter (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Crosshair and Hunter, Crosshair and Tech, Hunter & Tech (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Hunter & Wrecker (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), No Romantic Relationship(s), Tech and Hunter, Wrecker and Crosshair, Wrecker and Hunter
Comments: 49
Kudos: 94





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

Cody slid off the cot and straightened a bit stiffly, conscious of the judgmental gaze of his chief medical officer. "Am I cleared, then?"

Stitch typed something into his datapad and glanced up. "You're cleared for medical leave, but that's about it, Commander."

"What?" Cody sidled around to look over Stitch's shoulder. "Wait, how can I be cleared only for medical leave?"

With a sigh, Stitch held up the datapad and pointed to the screen. "This is your name, Commander – and here's your rank and your number – okay, got that?"

Cody eyed him meaningfully.

Stitch continued, probably in revenge for all the trouble he seemed to think Cody had been giving him lately. "Now, right next to your number, there's a yellow mark. I've developed a system, see? Green means you're completely cleared and back to active duty. Blue means you're cleared for light duty only. Yellow shows you're cleared for medical leave, meaning – listen carefully, now."

Cody rolled his eyes.

Stitch smirked. "Medical leave means that you are _not_ cleared for _any_ sort of duty _whatsoever_. Got that?"

Cody lifted his hands in surrender. "Is there anything I am allowed to do? Or do you suggest I spend the next standard week wandering around the _Negotiator?"_

"I suggest you bring that up with General Kenobi or Command," Stitch told him unsympathetically. "I am sending my report in – now."

The datapad beeped faintly.

Cody sighed. "How did you get to be CMO, anyway?"

"You promoted me," Stitch pointed out, following him to the door.

"I must have been on pain meds."

Stitch grinned. "I have the records, and you were in perfect health at the time."

Cody buttoned the top half of his uniform up to his throat and straightened his rank bars. "I hadn't been drinking, had I?"

"We were nowhere near Coruscant," Stitch informed him. "And none of your batchmates were around, either."

Cody smirked and rested a hand on his medic's shoulder. "Thanks for your help."

"You're welcome, sir," Stitch told him sincerely.

Cody nodded and turned to leave. Stitch cleared his throat, and Cody glanced back.

Stitch gave him a threatening smile. "Commander, if you ever come in here again with a close-range laser burn through one lung . . ."

Cody tilted his head. "I didn't ask to be shot, Stitch."

"No, sir. But you wouldn't have been shot if you didn't insist on getting into fist-fights with droids. What possesses you, sir, honestly?"

Cody didn't really have an answer for that one, so he just sent Stitch an apologetic grimace and then beat a hasty retreat.

As he walked steadily towards the bridge, Cody reflected a bit on Stitch's words. He didn't actually remember getting shot – or, if he did, he'd registered it as a blow to the chest, not a laser. The next thing he knew, he was waking up in medbay with no memory at all of the past few days. Judging by Stitch's hovering over the next while, Cody's condition had been pretty much touch-and-go.

Maybe he should lay off punching droids – well, if he could remember when he was actually in battle. Cody nodded to a passing trooper and wondered if perhaps Rex was right. Cody, he'd always claimed, was a lot less cool-minded than he liked to pretend.

As Cody neared the lift, the doors opened to reveal Rex, wearing his newly-painted armor. It looked odd, at first, seeing the helmet's jaig eyes in blue instead of yellow, but Cody supposed he'd get used to it.

"Hey," said Rex with a grin. "I was just coming to see you. You got out."

Cody stepped in beside him. "On medical leave," he said, then sighed. "Stitch already sent the files to General Kenobi _and_ Command."

"Hm." Rex hit the control for the bridge level. "So, you're basically complaining because you can't cheat your way around it."

Cody rolled his eyes. "I probably could, but it's not worth the trouble. We're still over Coruscant, and it's not like there's much to do besides offload cargo and run drills."

"We'll be getting the go-ahead for a new mission soon," Rex told him. "While you were recovering, the new legion was formed. It's almost ready for deployment."

"Ah," said Cody. "Judging by the new paint job, I presume General Kenobi took my recommendation."

Rex eyed him sidelong. "I've been transferred to the Five-Oh-First, if that's what you mean."

Cody inclined his head. "The Five-Oh-First will be working under the command of General Kenobi for the duration of the war. Because Skywalker was just promoted, and because we're forming a new legion entirely from our already-existing battalion, command structure will be a bit odd for a while. You won't have a commander specifically, unless Skywalker gets a padawan –"

"He won't," Rex told him, looking a bit concerned. Probably because without a padawan or a special transfer, the 501st wouldn't be getting a commander. "At least, he's said he won't five or six times."

"Right," said Cody. "Well, considering that General Kenobi and Grandmaster Yoda were placing bets on that very fact last week, I wouldn't be too sure."

The doors opened, and the two clones headed for the bridge.

"Jedi placing bets. . .?" Rex said. "Wait, did Kenobi think General Skywalker would take a padawan, or not?"

"They both thought he would," said Cody, stepping aside to let a patrol of troopers run past. "Thus why I wouldn't be too sure that he _won't_."

"So who was betting against them?"

"No one. I guess whoever gets the timeframe more accurately wins."

Rex shook his head, looking amused for a moment, but then the thoughtful expression returned to his face.

Cody eyed him. "What's worrying you?"

Rex rubbed the back of his head. "I'm General Skywalker's acting second."

 _Yeah, that's what I thought. It's a lot of responsibility all at once. . ._ Cody elbowed Rex reassuringly. "You'll be getting a commander, eventually, if we get the chance to transfer one. Right now, though – well, you're the most experienced captain in the Five-Oh-First."

"That's what General Kenobi said. But I've been the CO of a company so far. Even if the Five-Oh-First is only the size of a regiment at the moment – well, effectively, I've got sixteen companies to look after."

"You'll have help," Cody said. "Your fellow captains are good officers, and you'll still chiefly be in command of Torrent Company. You're the right man for the job, Rex. Just don't get carried away. The men need a captain, not a dead hero."

Rex cast him a criticizing look. "You were just laid up for a week because you got carried away, _Commander_."

As the two of them entered the bridge, Cody jostled Rex with an elbow. "Just giving you an example of what not to do, Rex, old boy."

Before Rex could reply, General Kenobi turned to face them. "Ah, Cody! I just received Stitch's report."

Cody joined him at the holotable and came to attention briefly. "Yes, sir. It looks like I'm out of the action for a week."

Obi-Wan glanced around the quiet bridge. "What action, Commander?"

A few of the nearby technicians seemed amused by this, though they stayed focused on their jobs.

"Eh . . . good point, sir," Rex allowed. "I was telling Cody that we'd be getting a new assignment pretty soon."

"You and Anakin will, at any rate," Obi-Wan said, stroking his beard. This particular trait of his was what Cody mentally referred to as his general's 'thinking pose'.

Cody hadn't been assigned to his Jedi for all that long, but he was so used to automatically remembering hundreds upon hundreds of brothers by noting movements, patterns of speech, and nervous tics that categorizing General Kenobi's characteristics had taken him less than a day.

"What about us, sir?" Cody asked. "Surely we're not staying in orbit."

Obi-Wan blinked at the rotating planet beneath them and turned to regard him. "I'm afraid that's exactly what we are doing. The Chancellor wants the Two-Twelfth to operate as a backup force, at least until the other fleets are in position. We must be prepared to leave on a moment's notice, in case any Republic forces call for aid."

"Yes, sir," said Cody. "I'll check in with my officers and make sure everything's squared away."

"We've already done that," Rex said.

"Yes," said Obi-Wan. "Rex, Anakin and I met with them this morning. And wasn't there something in Stitch's report about you _not_ being cleared for duty?"

Cody stared straight ahead. "Well, General, what else is there to do? Sit around and play sabacc?"

"We could, I suppose, once my shift is over."

Cody locked his arms behind his back, winced at the pull in his chest, and settled for folding them instead. All the men would be occupied right now, and if there _was_ any action, it would be on the bridge. "Right," he said. "I guess I can be off duty here as well as anywhere."

Rex, who had always been rather dramatic, rolled his eyes at Cody's stubbornness, then saluted the general and stalked off to wait near the door – a silent message that he could be just as stubborn and knew perfectly well that Cody wouldn't keep him waiting there all day.

Cody narrowed his eyes at Rex's retreating figure.

Obi-Wan hummed thoughtfully at his datapad, then looked up. "Commander, perhaps there _is_ a way for you to fill your time productively."

Cody perked up. "Yes, sir?"

"We have to pick up new troops for our battalion, since so many have been reassigned to the new legion. Initially, I intended to send Anakin to Kamino, but since he could receive orders at any moment, it would probably be best if you could go instead."

"I could, sir," said Cody. "That'll fill a couple of days, anyway."

"It's mostly a formality, though I'm sure you already know that," Obi-Wan said. "The new troops will be joining us in an entirely new cruiser, which will replace the _Defiant._ "

Cody gazed out the viewport at the cruisers hovering around the _Negotiator._ "The _Defiant_ is General Skywalker's cruiser now, I take it?"

Obi-Wan pointed it out. "It was that one or the _Steadfast,_ and of course he couldn't have a ship with a name like that."

Cody huffed a faint laugh. "It fits, sir."

"Yes," Obi-Wan said dryly. "At any rate, if you travel to Kamino, you could come back with the cruiser, or spend a few extra days on Kamino, whichever suits you better."

"Thank you, sir," said Cody. "I'll probably stay on Kamino for the duration. There are several things I could keep occupied with there."

"Oh?" Obi-Wan turned and paced the length of the bridge, with Cody accompanying him. "Things you can keep occupied with _while_ being off-duty?"

"Yes, sir," said Cody.

The general cast him a half-amused look. "Come now."

"It's not being on duty if I volunteer," Cody said unashamedly.

"Ah, I see." Obi-Wan lifted his comlink. "I'll clear it with Stitch, and then you may leave whenever you are ready."

Cody saluted sharply, managing to contain his wince, then left. He reached the bridge door and continued through without pausing to glance at Rex, who fell into step beside him.

"Kamino," said Cody. "If Stitch clears me, I'll be gone the whole week."

"Good," said Rex, then seemed to realize how that had sounded. "I mean, good, you'll have something to do."

Cody smirked. "Don't get yourself into too much trouble while I'm gone."

"I would never," Rex said, much too quickly. "And same to you, Cody. I'm not going to have to abandon my new legion to come haul you out of trouble, am I?"

"Unlikely," Cody said, grimacing. "Colt will probably hover over me like a wingless aiwha the entire time I'm there."

Rex snorted at the mental image.

Cody smirked. Colt was one of the gruffest ARC troopers in existence. Those who did not know him personally were convinced that his only volume was shouting, and his only tone of voice was scolding.

That was, in fact, untrue. Colt was older than most of the other ARCs, including Cody, by a few weeks. Somehow, he had decided this meant he was personally responsible for his batchmates and the remainder of the command class; and, eventually, for every clone – trooper or officer – who came into his sphere of influence, even those who were of higher rank.

Yes, Cody was definitely looking forward to seeing him again. Hopefully, Colt now being a commander might mean that he didn't have much time to yell at Cody for his foolishness. . .

Cody's comm beeped. _"You're cleared, Commander,"_ Stitch said. _"Have a safe flight, and don't do anything I might regret."_

"Don't you mean 'anything you might regret'?" Cody asked with a smile.

 _"_ _No. I mean anything_ I _might regret, Commander."_

Rex laughed. "He's got you there, Cody."

Cody turned towards the hangar, not bothering to dignify Rex's comment with a response.

* * *

Two days later, Cody found himself standing with the quiet and dignified Shaak Ti on a balcony at the peak of Tipoca City. The sublight engines of the new cruiser _Victory_ glowed blue through the heavy rain as it pulled away, slowly lifting out of atmosphere.

As it disappeared into the heavy clouds, Shaak Ti turned away from the window and walked back toward the door. Cody joined her, a little to her left and one step behind her, as they entered the spotless white halls of the city.

"Commander Cody," she said, tucking her hands into her wide sleeves. "What will you do, now that the new troops have left?"

"I'm not sure yet, ma'am," Cody said. "Initially, I intended to talk to ARC trooper Colt and offer my help with training cadets, but he's currently off-planet."

"Yes, he took his new battalion with him for an extended training campaign," she said. "If you have no other plans, Commander, and if you are interested in teaching, I might make a suggestion."

"Please," said Cody, gesturing for her to continue.

"I received a report last week from another ARC trooper, Havoc. Do you know him?"

Well, not really, except for the fact that he'd faced off with Cody on the sparring mat and completely flattened him, but Cody didn't think that needed to be specified. "Not very well, General, but I've seen him around. Doesn't he work with Colt?"

"He does," she affirmed, glancing at a Kaminoan as he moved past. Her grey eyes remained cool and almost impersonal, but there was an underlying warmth to her tone when she said, "He has been invaluable in keeping me apprised of things here in Tipoca City. As for the cadets I spoke of, though, they are . . . particularly troublesome."

Cody frowned. "Troublesome in what way?"

"He did not give me details," she said. "I believe he only mentioned them to me because the Kaminoans are becoming concerned. Havoc said they are exceptional troopers, though, so I am unsure as to why . . ."

Cody glanced sideways at her. "Usually, that means the troopers in question are dysfunctional in some way."

She paused and turned to face him. "Commander, perhaps these troopers are not perfect, but just because they do not perform to the Kaminoans' expectations does not make them _dysfunctional_."

"No, ma'am," Cody agreed, clasping his hands behind his back. "But if Havoc says the Kaminoans are becoming concerned, that means they've either listed the troopers as dysfunctional, or are about to."

Shaak Ti's even gaze flickered for a moment. "Yes. . ." She looked as though she were about to say something else, but then shook her head slightly. "As for your part in this though, Commander, you have been spoken highly of by Colt as a teacher. Would you be willing to speak to Havoc?"  
"I'll do that, ma'am," said Cody. "Where is he right now?"

"Havoc trains and oversees the troopers in Sector D. As for the commandos, I do not know where they are based." She gave him an apologetic smile. "I've already been here several weeks, but have only seen part of the city."

"Not a problem, ma'am," Cody told her. "It's a big place. I'll go speak to Havoc and see if there's something I can do to help."

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the relative brevity of this chapter, and for the abrupt ending. I'd written twice the amount of words, but I realized that if I want to keep any sort of posting schedule, I have to stop posting everything I have all at once. So, from here on out, I'll be posting a chapter of 'Not Our Style' on Monday or Tuesday, and a chapter of 'In the Shadows' on Friday or Saturday. I seriously doubt that the 'In the Shadows' chapters will be getting shorter, though. :D
> 
> I spent maybe half an hour trying to figure out the height of each Bad Batch member. I found Wrecker's height. Hunter has no height listed, and neither does Crosshair. Tech is listed at 1.93 meters, which is ten cm taller than the normal troopers. Somehow, I doubt that very much. :D
> 
> For reference, though, here's what I decided on:
> 
> Wrecker: 6' 5.5"
> 
> Hunter: 6' 1"
> 
> Tech: 5' 9"
> 
> Crosshair: 6' 2"
> 
> (Quinlan Vos, by the by, is 6' 3")
> 
> Okay - sorry for the long note! :)

* * *

When Cody found Havoc, the other commander was leaning his elbows against the railing of a high balcony that overlooked Training Arena D-12. Cody walked up beside him, glanced at the empty arena, then at Havoc. "Interesting view?"

"Not at the moment." Havoc turned to face him, then gave a small, surprised hum and removed his helmet. "Cody! I knew you were hear to pick up new troops, but I thought they were scheduled to leave an hour ago."

"I didn't go back with them," said Cody. "I'm on medical leave."

Havoc tilted his head. "Does that mean I can't go another round with you?"

"I already admitted defeat," Cody said dryly. "But I'll say it again: ARC trooper Havoc flattened me during a normal sparring routine. Happy now?"

Havoc grinned. "Okay, I'll stop rubbing it in. But what are you doing down here? If you're looking for Colt, he's off-planet."

"I actually came to speak with you," Cody said, leaning an elbow on the balcony railing. "I thought I'd spend my time here helping out where I could with the new troops, and General Ti mentioned you had some problematic troopers."

"That's one way to put it," Havoc said. He ran a hand through his short dark hair and sighed. "These guys are just . . . Well. They'll be here in a few minutes. You can draw your own conclusions."

"How many are there?"

"Four – it's just the one squad."

Cody raised an eyebrow. "One squad?"

"They're not regulars, Cody." Havoc turned on the nearby computer. "They're a squad of commandos. _Experimental_ commandos."

Cody joined him at the computer and studied the screen. "Why don't they have a designation?"

"They don't have one in the army database," Havoc said. "They were sent to commando training, but I'm not sure they were ever intended to be part of the GAR."

"Then – what were they intended to be part of?"

Havoc shook his head. "You know how it is, getting a straight answer out of the Kammies. Either the commandos weren't expected to survive, or they were intended to be some secret forces group. I don't know. About nine years ago, Kaminoans started working on augmenting specific physical traits in the DNA. 'Desirable mutations', Lama Su called them."

"What kind of traits?"

"Anything they could think of. Strength, mental capacity, any of the senses – they even tried a few with cybernetic implants. Twenty special forces clones were attempted."

"That's a small number for the Kaminoans," Cody said.

"I think they realized pretty early on that their project wouldn't work." Havoc turned to face him. "Twenty were made, eight survived to decanting, four of those – the ones with the implants – died before they were three."

"And the remaining four are your problem troopers. Were their enhancements successful?"

"Yeah. I can't say how much, because I don't know what the original results were supposed to be, but they've all got their own specific skills and abilities."

Cody nodded thoughtfully. "So, were they given commando training, or are you doing that?"

"No, they were trained as commandos – but separate from the others, and they were transferred from instructor to instructor. My job was to get them working as a squad. I only work with them twice a week because of the number of troopers being given advanced training, but these guys don't seem to agree on much – apart from the fact that they love fighting. Each other, droids, the Kaminoans, other troopers. . . Oh, and they agree on their squad name."

Cody raised an eyebrow. "Their squad name."

Havoc sighed. "They call themselves the Bad Batch. Considering that they use that name a lot when Nala Se is around . . ."

Cody smirked. "They're failed experiments with enough nerve to rub that fact in the Kaminoans' faces."

"They don't lack in courage," agreed Havoc. "Either that, or they have absolutely no sense of self-preservation. I haven't been able to figure out which it is, and they were assigned to me three weeks ago."

Havoc checked his chronometer. "I set up a Citadel challenge for them – I was going to go down there and try to walk them through it, see if I could hold them together."

"Have they done the Citadel before?"

"Yes, several times. Their success rate isn't what I'm worried about."

"Hm." Cody folded his arms. "Havoc . . . what if you have them perform a retrieval mission instead. Something that requires cooperation."

Havoc looked uncertain for a moment, but sat down and started typing. "What have you got in mind?"

"You said they don't cooperate, but that they've beat the Citadel challenge," mused Cody. "Their skill level must be really high for that to happen. No point in running them through something they're already good at."

"They haven't managed to complete it while following the rules," said Havoc. "Which is chiefly why the Kaminoans are thinking of separating them, putting them on solo assignments even."

Cody gave him a thoughtful look. "And that worries you."

". . . Yeah." Havoc glanced up. "They argue all the time, but they still balance each other out. Some of them would probably not _survive_ solo assignments . . . eh, you'll see what I mean."

"Okay," said Cody. "Let's give them some orders from up here and see if _any_ of them are followed. I want to see their best and worst."

"Well." Havoc got up. "You're definitely going to see that. Here they come."

The lift at the far end of the arena appeared, carrying four troopers in armor. It wasn't training or basic armor, either. "They're using Katarn-class armor during a training simulation?"

"Yeah," Havoc said. "They've spent a lot of time personalizing it, and regular armor is sized wrong for them."

"Hm." Cody studied the four commandos, who were glancing around the still-empty arena and looking bored. One was surprisingly tall and bulky, at least in comparison to his squad mates. Another seemed small, and the third, who stood a little apart from the others, was unusually thin. Cody glanced at the last trooper, who, interestingly enough, had a knife sheath on his vambrace.

"Go ahead," Cody told Havoc. "But don't tell them I'm here."

Havoc switched on the microphone. "All right, Bad Batch. You guys have a bit of a different challenge today."

Walls sprang up out of the floor to the right of the balcony, and surrounded an area marked by red light. Havoc continued to press keys and talk. "There's a consol in the fortress. Your objective is to download the data from it and return to the starting point for exfil. Work _together,_ Bad Batch."

They waited patiently enough for him to finish, though the big trooper kept swinging his arms, eager to jump into battle.

"Who's that one?" Cody murmured.

Havoc turned off the microphone. "Wrecker. He's very strong – prefers using his hands instead of a rifle, half the time. This objective looks simple, but I'm going to give them different orders along the way."

Cody nodded his understanding, and Havoc pressed another button. The lights on the ceiling turned green, then back to white, and a buzzer sounded.

As if released from a rocket launcher, the four troopers burst into action. Wrecker charged forward, grabbing every droid in his path, flinging them from side to side, heedless of where they landed. The thin trooper, who carried a sniper rifle, ducked just in time and snapped, "Watch it, Wrecker!"

"Watch what?" roared Wrecker, grabbing two super droids and smashing them together.

In reply, the sniper deliberately fired a shot that scorched one side of Wrecker's helmet on its way to destroy the next droid Wrecker was reaching for.

"That's Crosshair," said Havoc neutrally.

Cody nodded, watching carefully. The other two troopers were hanging back a little, though he couldn't tell why. "And the one with two pistols?"

"Tech. He's not as aggressive as the other three – not that I've seen, anyway. The last one is Hunter."

Cody observed the trooper with the knife. "He's not rushing in as much."

"I think he's waiting for the other two to get some energy out," said Havoc. "You know, Cody, the guys in my command class were competitive, but Wrecker and Crosshair take it to a whole new level."

Cody watched as Wrecker shot down another droid, then whipped around, nearly hitting Crosshair in the face with his gun as he took out three more. "They're certainly taking risks."

"They've injured each other before," said Havoc. "Never intentionally, near as I can find out . . . but I don't know if Wrecker knows his own strength. Crosshair – he's a little harder to figure out."

Hunter moved suddenly, leaping past Wrecker to slash efficiently through three droids. Wrecker grabbed at a fourth one, and Hunter ducked beneath his arm and killed it before Wrecker could.

"What about Hunter?" Cody asked. "Has he injured anyone?"

"Not since I've been assigned to them, but he broke Wrecker's nose during a practice spar." Havoc raised an eyebrow as Tech dashed past the others, shooting four droids on his way to the fortress. "That one is trouble."

"More than the others?"

"No, not usually. In fact, sometimes he's more mission-focused, but it depends on the mission. I had them perform recon last week, and he spent the entire time getting distracted by his datapad. I thought maybe he was researching something . . . then, right before the end of the simulation, he shut down the entire simulation remotely."

Cody observed Tech as he dove to cover. "Why'd he do that?"

"Actually, he says he was trying to override it and give them more challenging enemies." Havoc put both hands on his waist and jerked his chin at Hunter. "I'm suspicious it was his idea."

"Tech wouldn't say?"

"No. That's the one time they all team up, when anyone outside the squad might cause trouble for them. It's like they don't care if their own squad mates argue or fight with them, but if anyone else tries to, that person is somehow a hostile."

Cody hummed. "The Deltas were a little like that – arguing and fighting amongst themselves and then becoming solid allies when someone interfered."

"Yeah, when they were biologically sixteen," said Havoc. "Not when they were eighteen, and not to such an extreme."

"Of all the commandos I worked with, the Deltas were the most unorthodox," Cody said with a faint grin. "Sev and Scorch fought all the time, and I seem to remember them teaming up against Fixer a lot, too."

"Okay," admitted Havoc. "Scorch and Sev were pretty bad. I definitely remember Boss having to work at it to keep them in line. But the Deltas are a quiet and orderly unit compared to these guys."

Cody spent a moment trying to reconcile 'the Deltas' with 'quiet and orderly', then gave up.

Tech reached the fortress, holstered his pistols, and leaped up to scramble over the wall. He reminded Cody of Rex a little; maybe it was how he fought, effortlessly and accurately using both pistols on separate targets.

The other three were still at the halfway mark, destroying droids – but they were waiting for the droids to come to them, not bothering to gain the objective.

Cody was still mentally comparing the Deltas to Bad Batch. "One difference is that Scorch and Sev were always competing, but Boss and Fixer were mostly mission-oriented . . . mostly. . ." He paused. "These guys don't seem to care."

Havoc shook his head. "I'm not sure why. Most troopers hate failing tests."

Below them, Hunter shouted, "Tech! You got that data yet?"

"No. It's downloading now." Tech's voice was precise and a bit higher than the others' voices.

Wrecker gave an exasperated sigh. "Too many dead droids! I can't move."

"Then duck," Crosshair suggested acidly, and elbowed past him to shoot down a super. "You're getting in my way."

"Okay," said Havoc. "Time for Phase Two. . . " He pressed a button, and several droidekas rolled in. "Listen up, troopers! You still have to retrieve the data, and protect it until you return to the starting point. The enemy is sending reinforcements in an attempt to recover it."

Hunter hesitated, then ran toward the fortress. "We need to clear a path!"

Wrecker rushed the droidekas head-on – the droidekas, however, were still alongside the fortress, not yet in a position to threaten their retreat, while the area in the front of the fortress was filled with droids.

Cody frowned. "Is he doing that _because_ Hunter said to clear a path?"

"I doubt it," said Havoc. "He's doing it because they're droids, and he loves destroying things."  
Crosshair stood coolly in the middle of the room, shooting down droid after droid, sometimes not even lifting the sniper rifle to his shoulder before taking the shot. He was good – _really_ good. He'd destroyed perhaps forty droids, and every single one of them was a head shot. But he wasn't watching out for his squad mates.

"I've got the data!" Tech said excitedly.

"New objective!" Havoc announced. "A bomb near the starting point is set to go off in ninety seconds. Protect the data!"

Cody eyed him. "Are they trained to disable bombs?"

"They just have to get out," Havoc said, then paused. "Of course, the way these guys think, they might very well try to disable it instead of going the easier route."

Hunter dashed from the fortress, firing with one hand and slashing through droids with the other. "Bad Batch, let's get to the starting point!"

Cody watched him. Hunter seemed to be at least attempting to complete the objectives, but he couldn't say the same for anyone else.

"Ha!" yelled Wrecker. "Fifty for me! Beat that, Crosshair!"

Tech skidded to a halt beside them. "I've got the data."

"You already said that," said Hunter. "Wrecker, Crosshair, come on, we need to get out of here!"

" _We_ don't," stated Crosshair, tilting his head to one side as a stun round flashed past. "The data does."

Cody frowned, and Havoc shook his head.

More droids entered the room from the lift side, but none of the commandos seemed to notice.

Hunter hooked his gun on his belt and launched himself into the air, kicking a droid in the head, then buried his knife in a super droid's chest. "Tech! Complete the mission!"

Tech stayed where he was, firing with one hand as he grabbed the data chip with the other. "Wrecker can take it."  
"Tech!" Hunter yelled, turning on him. "Get that data back to the lift, now!"

Tech took a step back, as though about to obey, then hesitated. "We're surrounded!"

Crosshair turned around, observed the oncoming enemies, and set to work destroying them, but not in a direct path. He consistently picked the hardest targets, getting head shots despite the distance, the angle, or the number of droids in any given group. One of his shots skimmed three droids' necks, taking them all down.

Hunter glanced at his chronometer. He was the only one bothering to keep track of the time they had left – about forty-five seconds, Cody noted.

"Wrecker!" Hunter shouted. "Give us a path to the lift!"

Wrecker finally took his attention off the other droids and turned around. Without further ado, he put his head down and charged through them, flinging droids right and left.

It might have worked, except that Tech and Crosshair were each focused on their own targets. Tech had even stopped running toward the lift, and was destroying droids instead.

The droids all around Wrecker turned their guns on him. Six shots hit him. He crushed one droid and shot another, then collapsed.

Hunter shoved Tech, hard. "Get to the lift!"

Tech finally ran, but it was too late. Two shots hit him in the arm, and he fell, but managed to continue shooting until a third laser hit his back.

Hunter hesitated for a split second, glancing between Crosshair and Tech, then broke away from his squad mate to get the data chip. As he was getting it from Tech's belt, Crosshair lunged forward, swinging his rifle up to smash a droid creeping up on Hunter.

"First time he does that," said Havoc. "Hunter's the only one who consistently tries to cover the others."

"I noticed," said Cody.

The two troopers were getting overwhelmed. Cody almost gave the order to end the simulation, but stopped himself. Training lasers were painful, but two of the commandos had already been taken down because of their lack of cooperation – the other half of the squad would suffer the same.

"Ten seconds," called Hunter, but his words were automatic. He didn't seem to care, now, whether they got to the lift or not.

Crosshair dropped his rifle and lunged forward, twisting one droid's head free, then snapping another's arm, before pulling a pistol and shooting down three more. Not one of those droids had been in his way.

Cody folded his arms and raised an eyebrow.

The red light on the bomb blinked rapidly, and Havoc opened his mouth to tell commandos that they'd failed, but Cody shook his head. "Send in more droids."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those looking for more Bad Batch content - the most recent chapter of 'Nobody Listens to Kix', by Inksplots, is about Crosshair. The author did a great job with the characterizations. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly updated chapter, since I decided on Tech's fear after writing and posting this . . . See, guys, this is why full character profiles should always be written before you write the actual story. ;D

As more droids entered the arena, Havoc glanced at Cody. "You want these guys to fail, Commander?"

"They already failed. I'm just reinforcing the lesson."

"Ah," said Havoc. "They seem to think that taking out the droids is winning, so you're not going to let them do that."

Cody inclined his head and returned to watching the battle.

Hunter seemed to hesitate when he realized that the simulation hadn't ended, but he recovered quickly enough. He rushed over to Wrecker, snatching a vibroblade from a sheath on his leg, then threw himself into the fray, slashing droids right and left.

He and Crosshair had completely split off by now. Neither of them covered the other, or stayed near their fallen squad mates. Crosshair, still focused on fighting the more distant enemies, was quickly surrounded. He snatched up his rifle and swung it like a club, ripped a gun from a droid, and turned it on the others. Two shots hit him in the chest, and he stumbled to his knees, but kept firing. He only collapsed after a second double-shot.

Hunter glanced toward him once, but kept moving, twisting and dodging and slashing, moving as though in a dance that only he could hear the music to.

Cody analyzed his movements with a practiced eye. "Havoc, that trooper is better with knives than any clone I've ever seen."

"He always seems to know exactly where each droid is," noted Havoc.

"What's his particular enhancement?"

"Sensing frequencies," Havoc said. "He never really gave me an exact definition of what that _means_ , though."

Hunter climbed up on a barricade, vaulted into the air, and somersaulted over a droid's head, stabbing it with a backwards blow as he landed, then spun on one foot and sliced another through the ankles.

A laser hit him, and he fell forward on his hands and knees, then twisted clumsily to throw his own knife at the attacker. A second laser hit him in the chest. He jerked, then crumpled.

The droids stopped advancing and brought their guns to rest position.

"Ending simulation," said Havoc.

The two commanders stared at the destruction below them for a long moment.

Havoc picked up his helmet and tucked it under one arm. "Well, Cody, you want to go down there and meet them, or should I let them worry about their failure for a while?"

"From what I've just seen, they won't worry about it much," said Cody, heading for the stairs. "Why did Hunter go down so easily? Wrecker took six lasers."

"He's got a lot more muscle mass," said Havoc. "But you're right – even Crosshair took four hits."

"He was probably out after the third," Cody said. "Tech definitely was. But Hunter was almost down after the first."

"They don't often get hit, so I can't tell you whether that's usual or not," Havoc said as they reached the door.

Cody pressed the controls and entered the room. "Something to keep in mind, anyway. It's possible the first laser hit between his armor."

Havoc, busy wading through a pile of dead droids, answered with only a hum.

Cody followed, glad that he wasn't wearing his armor. His chest was twinging again, and he didn't need the extra weight right now. He stepped over a droideka. "I'll bet the repair droids have a lot to do every time Bad Batch has a simulation."

"Yeah, I've gotten a couple of complaints . . . from the troopers I put on repair duty for misdemeanor, not from the droids."

Cody shook his head, amused. "Let's see if we can wake these guys."

Havoc headed over to Wrecker, and Cody stopped beside Tech and removed his helmet, which had been modified to fit over his goggles. Cody gave him a gentle shake. It wasn't a good idea to wake stunned troopers fast – they tended to react violently. "Tech, wake up."

A few seconds later, Tech opened his eyes, glanced around, then froze, studying Cody as though he were somehow unusual. _Not unusual, unfamiliar,_ Cody corrected himself. "On your feet."

Tech got up, accepted his helmet from Cody, and observed the room. "It seems that we failed," he said matter-of-factly.

"Yes, you did," Cody agreed. "Wait with Wrecker for a minute."

"Was Hunter hit?" Tech asked.

Cody raised a disapproving eyebrow. "I gave you an _order_ , trooper."

Tech frowned, but obeyed.

Havoc had gone to wake Crosshair, so Cody made his way towards Hunter, careful to go around the droids rather than jumping or climbing over them. He was curious as to why Tech had asked about Hunter, but that could wait. Tech hadn't been alarmed, and Cody didn't want to start off on the wrong foot with these guys. Not insisting on discipline was a poor way to show authority with any soldier.

Dropping carefully to one knee, Cody removed Hunter's helmet. His face was nearly white, but his pulse was fine – a little thready, maybe. Cody checked his breathing, which was even and regular, then turned the commando on his side in the recovery position before getting to his feet.

Crosshair got up carefully, moving as though breathing hurt – that was to be expected, after getting hit four times in the chest. Cody glanced down at Hunter, then back at the others. "Form up, commandos!"

They obeyed, casting occasional glances between Havoc and Cody as though unsure of what to expect.

Havoc stood a little behind Cody, content to let him take the lead for now.

Cody pivoted to face the troopers, hands locked casually behind his back. "Does this happen to Hunter a lot?"

To his surprise, all three of them hesitated.

"Uh," said Wrecker.

Cody tried a different tactic. "Do we need to call a medic?"

He already knew that he didn't, or there would have been a note in Hunter's medical file, but letting the commandos know _why_ he was asking probably wouldn't hurt matters.

"No," said Tech.

 _Progress,_ Cody told himself. _So far, Tech's the most cooperative._ "All right. Any ideas why this happens, Tech?"

"He can sense frequencies," said Tech haltingly. "Specifically, electromagnetic frequencies. This is not usually a problem, though sudden exposure to particular levels of energy can leave him incapacitated."

"Exposure as in direct contact?" said Cody. "The lasers you fired didn't seem to bother him."

"No, they don't," said Tech. "And, as far as I have observed, direct contact is the only thing which initiates this reaction. Direct contact, and the type of laser used in this exercise."

"It's an electromagnetic pulse," Havoc said. "What about ECs, though? You used those the other day."

"Those he can feel, but they don't truly affect him," Tech said. "EMP grenades are an issue, though, being specifically designed to disrupt the neurological systems."

"I see," said Cody. "Did none of you ever report this to the medics?"

Crosshair moved as though about to say something, then hissed.

"No," said Tech. Unlike his last few statements, he did not expound on this one.

Cody nodded. "How long until he wakes up?"

"Depends how many times he was hit," Wrecker said. "Not too long."

He seemed to have recovered the best, and was moving easily enough, despite having been hit half a dozen times . . . odd. Tech kept moving his right arm as though it were cramping – Cody could sympathize, he'd been hit by training lasers often enough – and Crosshair still hadn't drawn a full breath.

"Okay," said Cody. "At ease, troopers. Crosshair, make it easy on yourself and take off the helmet."

Crosshair regarded him for a long instant, as though trying to judge whether Cody was giving an order or making a suggestion. Cody raised an eyebrow. Crosshair seemed to realize that he was giving an order, because he finally obeyed.

That settled, Cody took a moment to observe the commandos. Hunter had a fairly normal face, though his black hair was longer than regulation, nearly covering his ears. As for the other three, their appearances were surprisingly different, considering that they were all clones.

Wrecker had some pretty bad scarring across the left side of his head and down the side of his face to the corner of his mouth, as well as a cataract in his left eye. He was a good six inches taller than Cody, even without the helmet, and much more muscular. His expression was blank, almost confused – but his good eye was glaring stonily at the ground. _Hmm._

Tech was an inch or so shorter than most clones, as well as having a smaller build, paler skin, and lighter hair. He was also, quite unabashedly, studying Cody in return.

Cody bit back a smirk at his inquisitive, wide-eyed look and glanced at Crosshair, who stared piercingly back. His eyes had an almost physical brightness to them; he was pale, like Tech, but there the obvious similarities ended. His face was bone-thin, and his hair was grey. Perhaps a mutation, or maybe an illness . . . no, he'd pulled enough stunts during the battle that he had to be in top physical condition.

Wrecker shifted uncertainly.

Crosshair continued to stare at Cody, so Cody met his gaze and held it, careful not to appear challenging, just observant. He imagined that Crosshair used that sharp look to either goad or intimidate people into reacting, but Cody had the advantage of having grown up with a command class, and of having trained and worked with commandos, all of whom were extremely competitive.

In fact, in his younger days, Cody had probably spent several hours trying to stare down certain of his batchmates . . . Fox came to mind. Well, Fox and Wolffe. Fox had always won.

Cody didn't need to win here, of course, though acting intimidated would hardly help. He gave Crosshair a faintly amused, questioning look, as though asking what he wanted Cody to do, then turned back to the others.

Tech no longer seemed curious – in fact, his face was carefully passive, and he was looking a bit ill.

"How's the arm?" Cody asked.

"Fine."

Cody gave him a stern look.

"It _will_ be fine," Tech said stubbornly.

"You think I've never been hit by one of those, let alone two? I asked you a question, soldier. I expect an honest answer."

Tech winced. "It is . . . becoming problematic."

He had a strangely formal way of talking, compared to most clones. Judging by the sniff from behind Cody, Havoc found that either amusing, endearing, or both. He was worse than Colt sometimes. No wonder the two of them got assigned to training cadets.

Cody glanced at Hunter, but he hadn't stirred. _Okay . . . Guess we won't be doing a review yet._

"Crosshair. I want you and Tech to report to the medbay." When they glanced hesitantly at each other, Cody decided to play it safe. "Commander Havoc will accompany you. Wrecker, you're with me. I'll need you to help me get Hunter to medbay once he wakes up."

Havoc stepped over to the two and gestured. "You heard the commander. Move it!"

Cody was well aware that he hadn't introduced himself yet, and he didn't intend to, not until all four of them were present. It would be interesting to see if any of them figured out who he was before then. He was pretty sure Crosshair and Tech wouldn't ask Havoc, though Tech might try to figure it out on his own.

But Wrecker might ask. Cody turned away from the door to realize that Wrecker had already hoisted Hunter into his arms – apparently, for Wrecker, carrying a fully-armored man was as easy as carrying a pack of rations.

"Wrecker," Cody said mildly. "I said 'once he wakes up'."

"Oh, uh . . . sorry." Wrecker set Hunter down again, moving carefully.

Cody could tell that Wrecker's confusion was honest. Maybe he hadn't understood the order the right way, or maybe he hadn't heard all of it. It was certain that, now that the others were gone, Wrecker was more nervous.

Cody glanced around the room. "So, how many of these kills were yours?"

"Fifty-eight," said Wrecker. "And then I lost count."

"Happens to the best of us," said Cody. "Do you guys all count your kills?"

Wrecker gave an uneasy shrug. "Crosshair and I do. I don't know about Tech and Hunter. I mean, sometimes they do, but the rest of the time . . . I dunno."

Cody wasn't sure what Wrecker was so nervous about, but he decided to let it go for now. Most likely, it was the uncertainty of having an unknown commander there for an unknown reason.

Hunter stirred, abruptly froze, and let out his breath softly. "Not again . . ." The words were barely audible and more than a little shaky.

Cody dropped to one knee next to him and touched his arm. "You all right, trooper?"

Hunter jerked away as though stung, but didn't open his eyes. "Sorry," he said after a moment. "Where are the others?"

"I sent Tech and Crosshair with Havoc," said Cody, inwardly relieved that Hunter was asking about his squad. "Wrecker's with me."

Hunter pushed himself to his knees. When Cody reached towards him, Hunter somehow pulled away without opening his eyes, so Cody let him alone.

"You okay, Hunter?" Wrecker asked.

"Yeah."

He was very obviously trying to keep his eyes shut for as long as possible, which Cody thought qualified him for at least a short checkup. "I hear you never reported this particular problem to the medics," he said impartially. "I'm trying to figure out how they missed it."

"I don't usually get hit," said Hunter, then paused. "Oh . . . We failed. Any finheads watching this time?"

"No," said Cody, holding back a smirk. "Just myself, and Commander Havoc. But introductions can wait. Let's rejoin the rest of your squad."

"In medbay," Hunter said cautiously.

"Yes."

There was a brief pause. "Fine. Wrecker. . ."

"Right here." Wrecker walked off, shoving his way through the droids, and Hunter followed without a word.

Cody overtook him and glanced sideways – sure enough, he hadn't opened his eyes yet . . . which meant he was following Wrecker by sound. Interesting.

All three of them remained quiet as they left the training arena and headed toward the medbay, situated some two hundred meters away. Hunter paused outside the door and stepped aside to let Wrecker past. Wrecker entered with a final glance at Cody, and the door slid shut.

Hunter hesitated, opened his eyes, flinched, and cursed under his breath, then stopped abruptly as he realized that Cody was standing beside him. "I – thought you went in," he said, staring at the floor.

Cody raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

The door opened again to reveal Crosshair, who shot Cody a sharp look before turning to Hunter.

Behind him, Havoc's voice sounded. "Crosshair . . ."

Hunter let out a soft sigh. "I'm coming," he said, and entered medbay, still looking at the ground.

Cody entered behind him, catching Crosshair by one arm on the way and turning him into the room so that the doors could slide shut.

The sniper seemed to be caught off-guard, because Cody had already released him before he could begin to resist.

Havoc, who stood near a bed with his arms folded, caught Cody's gaze and tilted his head toward the medic – a female Kaminoan – who was scanning Tech.

"You have no permanent damage," she said in the cool, impersonal voice that seemed inherent to every Kaminoan. "You are free to leave."

Wrecker got up from where he'd been seated on another bed. "Can't you give him something for his arm?"

"The muscle spasms will stop within the hour," she said, blinking slowly. "However, I could administer a relaxant, as long as you have no further weapons tests scheduled for today."

All four of the commandos looked at Havoc, then at Cody, but said nothing.

Cody stepped forward. "No further tests scheduled," he said. "Go ahead and give him the shot. Crosshair might require one as well."

"Very well, Commander." She inclined her head gracefully and turned away to get the hypo. Tech bit his lip and shifted, as though intending to get up; then he caught Cody's gaze and froze.

The Kaminoan turned back around. Tech hunched slightly, as though anticipating a blow, and clenched his fists at his sides.

Hunter moved over to join him while Crosshair and Wrecker stood farther away.

Cody raised an eyebrow at Havoc. "You have trouble getting them in here?"

"No," said Havoc in a low voice. "But once Tech was in, Crosshair acted like I didn't exist. It's like he wants me to try forcing him."

Cody watched thoughtfully as Hunter elbowed Tech and muttered something. "Once they've been treated, I'll talk to them."

Havoc nodded. "I'm supposed to be at the next training arena in ten minutes, so we'll have to make it quick. . ."

"No," said Cody. "You go ahead – I can handle this. When are you free?"

"I'm off-duty at twenty-one hundred."

"Good," said Cody, checking his chronometer. "It's oh-three hundred now. I'll meet you for dinner in the officers' lounge."

Havoc turned toward the door, then paused. "You've got something in mind already, don't you?"

"Yes." Cody cast him a faint smile. "I've got some ideas."

* * *

Hunter sat motionless while the Kaminoan scanned him, but his mind was focused on the new commander. He hadn't introduced himself, which was strange. It couldn't be that he didn't have a name . . . he was a _commander._ Most clones had names by the time they graduated, if not before. And if a clone didn't have a name, he would at least introduce himself by number.

The doctor set aside her datapad. "You seem to have been hit a surprising number of times," she said.

Hunter shrugged, unwilling to enlighten her. The Kaminoans had somehow failed to figure out that he was hypersensitive to stun weaponry, even though they were the ones who'd designed him with the ability to sense frequencies in the first place.

A faint prick in his neck made him jerk his attention back to her, but she was only injecting him with a painkiller.

"You may leave," she said. "It would be advisable not to eat for a while. Come back if your condition deteriorates."

 _Not a chance._ Hunter slid to the ground and gave her a short nod, just to show he'd heard her. The dim lights still seemed far too bright, but at least his own pulse wasn't hurting so badly.

He located his team members first. Tech was sitting next to Wrecker, both of them looking silently uncomfortable, while the doctor moved over to Crosshair. Havoc was gone, and the new clone commander –

The new clone commander was watching Hunter.

Hunter hesitated, then approached him. "Where'd Commander Havoc get to?"

"He had another training session to oversee," said the clone. He had a wicked-looking scar over his left eye and down his face, but apart from that there was nothing to show _who_ he was. His expression was professional, detached . . . he didn't even look displeased about the disaster in the training arena.

Hunter nodded, unsure of what to say next. His squad had been through a lot of different instructors, and most of them quickly became irritated with the constant lack of cooperation from their students. The others, like Havoc and Colt, were more patient, but they didn't know how to handle the squad.

 _Hunter_ didn't know how to handle the squad.

He wondered how much of that was his own fault.

The scarred clone glanced at the other three commandos, then back at him. "Do you men sleep in the barracks?"

"No, sir," said Hunter. "We've got a room on this level." _Near the doctors, because it's more convenient for them,_ he didn't say aloud. Experience had taught him that it was best to keep his mouth shut when he was stressed or in pain, or both.

"Good." The commander nodded, then gave him a thoughtful look. "It might be easier if we review your performance there, rather than returning to the training arena."

He didn't ask for an answer, and Hunter didn't give one, but he was quietly relieved that he wouldn't have to return to the arena. If the commander was going to yell at them, which he'd be fully justified in doing, at least Hunter wouldn't have to deal with the echoing arena and its bright lights at the same time.

"Hunter," said Tech, touching his elbow. "We're ready."

Hunter glanced at his squad mates, who had lined up behind him and were watching the commander with a mixture of uncertainty and unfriendliness. "Let's head to the bunkroom," he said.

Wrecker stepped up to take the lead without being asked, and the other two fell in behind him, leaving Hunter to bring up the rear.

The commander fell into step beside him, still saying nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, I finalized my theory of what does and doesn't negatively affect Hunter. It didn't really make sense that he'd be badly affected by all electromagnetic frequencies - Kamino had days of constant thunderstorms, and of course he's always using weaponry and electronics. Hopefully it all makes sense. :)
> 
> I'd love to hear what you guys think of this story, and if it's in character. :)


	4. Chapter 4

Cody followed the commandos into their bunkroom and waited while they put their weapons and helmets away. None of the commandos spoke.

At the far end of the room, Hunter turned toward Cody, then glanced at his batchmates, all of whom pointedly avoided his look. After a moment's hesitation, Hunter walked over to Cody. "You wanted to speak with us, sir."

The other three commandos paused, listening for his answer.

 _I think I know where the problem is,_ Cody thought. He nodded to Hunter. "Tell your men to form up."

Everyone – including Hunter – seemed to hesitate; Hunter as though he didn't want to give the order, and the other three as though they were waiting to see what he would do. The pause was only noticeable because Cody had been looking for it, but it was there.

"Bad Batch, form up," said Hunter.

They moved silently to stand a little behind him.

Cody studied each of them briefly, then said, "Commander Havoc thinks you're highly skilled soldiers. I watched your performance just now, and I agree with his assessment."

Wrecker frowned, Crosshair narrowed his eyes, Tech shifted his weight. Hunter didn't move a muscle.

Cody locked both hands behind his back and scarcely managed to hold back a wince at the sudden sting in his chest. A full week since he had been shot, and he was still forgetting to maintain a more relaxed posture.

He loosened his grip on his wrist and eyed the commandos sternly. "However, skill doesn't count for anything unless it is used _properly._ Every single one of you failed in that arena just now. Anyone care to tell me how?"

No one answered. Hunter looked like he was about to say something, but then he shut his mouth again.

"No?" Cody folded his arms. "Why don't you give it your best guess – Wrecker?"

Wrecker glanced at the ground, then at Cody. "We didn't follow orders . . . ?" He broke off uncertainly, as though realizing there was more to the answer, but wasn't quite sure about what it was.

Cody raised an eyebrow. "Didn't follow orders? That's one way to put it. But what's more important than following orders?"

"The mission," Tech answered. "We failed to complete our objectives." He blinked twice. "But – no, that can't be right. Commander Havoc's orders had to do with the objectives; so, in this case, completing the mission would tie back into following orders."

Cody glanced at him, feeling a brief flash of amusement at how wordy Tech was, then turned to Crosshair. "What was the first order Havoc gave you, after outlining your mission goals?"

". . . Work together," said Crosshair.

"Oh!" said Tech in realization. "I'd forgotten about that."

Hunter looked, briefly, as though he wanted to tell Tech to be quiet, but instead he turned back to Cody. "Commander, you're saying that working together is more important than the mission?"

Cody raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

The four commandos exchanged brief, confused glances.

"The mission's always first," Hunter said slowly. "But . . . working together means we're more likely to complete the mission."

"That's true," said Cody evenly. "But what I was trying to get at was that you – _all_ of you – failed at paying attention to your squad mates. Tech, you started off all right, getting to the fortress, but then you disobeyed Hunter. You could have gotten that data out if you'd obeyed immediately."

Tech nodded, once.

"Any explanations?"

" . . . No, sir."

"Hm." Cody turned to Wrecker. "Even then, though, the mission could have been completed if you had followed Hunter's order immediately and cleared a path. Any explanation from you?"

Wrecker looked awkwardly at the ground, but said nothing.

"Crosshair," said Cody. "When Hunter said you all needed to get out, you talked back instead of obeying. Every single one of you _disobeyed_ your sergeant in the field, during a mission, and as a result, you failed. What's the point of having a sergeant if you're going to ignore him?"

Hunter looked uncomfortable, and Cody was sure he knew why. His batchmates had been singled out for criticism, but Hunter hadn't been, even though he was also at fault.

Cody ignored him and continued to address the other three. "So: you disobeyed Havoc's orders, you disobeyed Hunter's orders, and you completely failed to protect each other. If you really believe that the mission comes first, then you have absolutely no reason for your failure. Troopers with significantly lower skill levels than yours have beaten harder challenges without losing a man. And _you_ lost _everyone_. Do you think you're really focused on being good soldiers?"

Tech cast a brief, guilty glance in Hunter's direction.

"I'll tell you what I think," said Cody. "I think you _don't_ believe that the mission comes first. I think you're so focused on your own goals that you're failing to look out for your brothers. I think you're forgetting what it means to be a good soldier, or maybe –" He eyed each of them sternly. "Maybe, you just don't care."

He paced to the end of the line, near Hunter, then rotated to face them. "This was just a test, but what if it had been real? You might not have disobeyed orders in the field, and you might even have looked out for each other more, but even presuming that were true, the habitual lack of cooperation I saw out there just now would have gotten one or even two of you killed. And for what?"

Tech and Wrecker looked thoroughly ashamed by now, but Crosshair continued to watch Cody sharply. His gaze wasn't defiant, though, so Cody continued. "The Grand Army of the Republic needs men of your skill level. What it _doesn't_ need is undisciplined soldiers who do whatever suits them. I'm _sure_ Havoc has talked to you about that."

"Yes, Commander," Tech said.

"Good. Then I don't need to repeat it." Cody folded his arms and studied them for a long, uncomfortable moment. "In fact, I have a feeling talking isn't going to get through to you. I'll give you some time to recover, but we're going back to the arena tonight. You're going to rerun that test, and you're going to prove to me that you can work together at least as well as cadets half your age. Got it?"

They straightened slightly. "Yes, sir."

The answer wasn't exactly enthusiastic, but for now Cody would take what he could get. He nodded firmly. "Report to the arena at twenty-two hundred hours. Do you have assigned duties until then?"

"No, sir," said Hunter quietly.

"Good." Cody paced to the other end of the line and turned on his heel. "Wrecker, report to Commander Havoc. He's instructing ARC troopers in Arena D-13. You're to help him with whatever he needs. I'll tell him you're coming. Crosshair, go back to D-12 and get to work clearing it. Tech, I want you working in maintenance. Start repairing some of the droids you boys tore apart. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." They spoke together, but the answer this time was slightly hesitant – and all three of them were watching him with curious gazes.

 _Ah,_ thought Cody. "You have a question, troopers?"

The three commandos turned simultaneously to Hunter, who eyed them back before glancing at Cody. "Commander, would you tell us who you are?"

He smiled blandly. "I'm Commander Cody – your new boss."

Tech blinked in astonished recognition, but before he could speak, Cody stepped forward. "I'll see you in the arena at twenty-two hundred hours. Dismissed!"

The three of them left, and the door slid shut behind them.

Hunter's gaze returned to Cody, who commed Havoc. "I'm sending Wrecker to help you out," he said.

Havoc took the unexpected news in stride. _"Got it."_

Cody disconnected the comm and folded his arms. "Hunter. You're the designated sergeant?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right, then. Tell me about your squad."

A wary look flickered through Hunter's eyes, but he nodded. "Yes, sir. What do you want to know?"

"Let's start with that simulation. Were the results typical for your squad, or are they usually better?"

"We don't usually get taken down," said Hunter. "And most of the time we complete the objectives, even if we – complete them differently than ordered. Today was my fault."

Cody tilted his head. "Are you saying what you really think, or what you think I want to hear?"

"I wouldn't do that, sir," said Hunter. "Honestly, I have no idea what you want to hear. I do know that today's failure was my fault."

The sergeant's face was peaked and his eyes were darker than before. Cody had seen that look plenty of times – usually in soldiers who were especially stressed by an injury. He moved to the door. "Come on. Let's take this conversation outside."

Hunter cast him a slightly surprised glance, but followed without a word.

Cody led the way to the room he'd watched the _Victory's_ departure from, and then out onto a wide walkway that surrounded the wide dome. The unusually heavy cloud cover meant that it was darker outside than in most of Tipoca City – even the barracks during the sleep cycle were brighter.

Taking an appreciative breath of cool air, Cody cast a look up at the drifting, multi-layered banks of grey clouds. The continual breeze that swept the ocean today made the briny tang seem fresher than ever. "Better?" he said.

He heard rather than saw Hunter's uncertainty. "Yes, sir. How –"

"It's easier to focus when your head isn't trying to split in half," Cody said, even though he was quite sure that Hunter was trying to ask how he'd known. "My batchmates and I used to study out here, at least when it wasn't raining. But let's get back to your squad."

Hunter, walking beside Cody, didn't answer for a long moment. Cody strolled quietly along the wide, railed structure, waiting for him to collect his thoughts.

"My squad mates tend to get on each other's nerves a lot," Hunter said at last. "I left them alone this week, didn't try to stop the fighting . . . Didn't intervene, didn't try to help them get along."

"Should you have?"

"I – don't know," said Hunter. "But if today was the result of _not_ intervening . . ."

He kept pausing, and Cody remembered what Havoc had said about the Bad Batch members clamming up if one of their own was questioned. Hunter probably had more of an explanation than he was letting on.

Cody thought for a moment before deciding to be more direct. "Do you know why you lost today, apart from the lack of cooperation?"

"Yes, sir. I should have gone to complete the mission."

"And you didn't because?"

"I . . . didn't see the point."

 _Interesting._ Cody looked out at the endless ocean. "You aren't entirely wrong, but in the end you lost because I wanted you to lose."

Hunter raised an eyebrow, caught off-guard. "You _wanted_ us to lose?"

"All four of you were making the wrong decisions."

Hunter looked almost amused. "So all four of us paid for it."

"Yes." Cody cast him a wry glance. "Of course, at the time I didn't know that stun weapons would incapacitate you that badly."

"I'm glad you didn't," Hunter muttered under his breath. He turned to face Cody, as though he had made a sudden decision. "Commander, respectfully, why are you here?"

"Officially, I'm here on medical leave," said Cody, leaning one elbow on the rail. "But unofficially, I'm here to teach. Your squad has a huge amount of potential, and I don't want to see that wasted.

A glint of hope entered Hunter's eyes.

Cody straightened. "Havoc has a lot of special ops troopers to train, and you mavericks need someone to whip you into shape. I've decided I'm going to be that someone. Now, the question is whether you and your men are willing to be taught."

* * *

At precisely twenty-fifty-five, Cody entered the officers' lounge and headed for the drink counter, where he got two cups of steaming caf and put them on a tray. He glanced around for an empty table, but most of them were occupied by clones silently working on datapads.

"Cody!" called a cheerful voice, and he turned just in time to avoid having the tray knocked from his hands by Monnk's overly enthusiastic greeting.

"Monnk." Cody took a step back and grinned at him. "What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing, just heard you were here and wanted to say hi." Monnk took the tray from Cody, marched over to a table with one lone occupant, and said, "Shove over, Sunny."

The clone medic, without looking up, kicked a chair out from the nearest side of the table and said, "Be right with you, Commanders."

"I've gotten my orders," Monnk said, gesturing Cody to the chair. "I'm shipping out in three days, actually. You're looking at the commander of the Four Forty-Second, under General Kit Fisto."

"General Fisto?" Cody repeated with a smirk. "You'll work well together."

"You've seen him?" Monnk set down the tray. "I heard he's on the Council, and that he's a Nautolan, but other than that I don't know much."

"I only spoke with him once," Cody replied, wrapping his hands around the warm mug. "He seemed very friendly – cheerful, talkative . . ."

"Like you, Monnk," Sunny finished for him, still not looking up from his work.

Monnk blinked, running a hand through his unusually curly hair. "That doesn't sound very Jedi-like."

Cody repressed an indelicate snort. On his second day of active duty, he had been in the cargo hold, reviewing a munitions report. General Kenobi, walking through the hold on his way to the barracks, had stubbed his toe on a cannon and promptly let out a very un-Jedi-like yell of pain. In his defense, he was unaware that anyone was nearby, but . . . "I don't think we were given a very accurate picture of the Jedi, Monnk."

Sunny, who had been mouthing words to himself as he re-read the report he'd just written, signed off on it and looked up. "Commander Cody," he said with the bright smile that had earned him his name. "It's good to see you again. Are you here on medical leave?"

"Yes," said Cody unapologetically.

"Hm." Sunny gave the cup of caf a highly judgmental look.

It was a mystery to Cody how all the CMOs he knew managed to pull off _exactly_ the same expression when they were displeased. It couldn't be just down to genetics – after all, medics were pulled from many different batches. Besides, he was pretty sure he'd never seen anyone _except_ a medic use that particular expression . . .

Holding Sunny's gaze, Cody took a loud, meaningful sip of caf.

Monnk laughed. "Come on, Sunny, if you're done with the report we'll head out and meet with the rest of the officers. We've got to start double-checking our inventory."

"Right." Sunny picked up his datapad and gave Cody a quick grin. "At least have some dinner with that, sir."

"Will do," said Cody. "It's good to see you again, Monnk. I'll drop by your cruiser before you ship out."

Monnk tossed him a casual salute and headed out.

Cody leaned back, shutting his eyes briefly, and savored the feel of the heated mug in his hands. He'd been on his feet a lot more than he'd intended today, and he was grateful to be in the lounge. The small, shooting pains in his chest were not debilitating, but they were tiring.

"Sleeping on the job, Cody?" Havoc's gruff voice said.

"You were late." He opened his eyes. "And these chairs are comfortable."

"That last part's true, anyway." Havoc seated himself across the table and slid a tray to Cody. "Get some sustenance in you. Krill chowder tonight."

They ate in silence, as there was very little point in letting the food get cold. The chowder was hot and filling, and they finished within a few minutes.

Havoc leaned across to snag the second mug of caf. "So, Cody. You said you had some ideas."

"Yes. First, how'd Wrecker do?"

"Very well, actually. He helped me with demonstrations, and he was careful to hold back." Havoc took a sip and narrowed his eyes at Cody. "What about the others? Did you separate them?"

"Yeah, I sent Crosshair to clear the arena, and Tech to work in maintenance. Then I talked with Hunter for a bit. After that, I sent him to help Crosshair."

Havoc nodded slowly. "Because Crosshair's so volatile around the regulars?"

"No," admitted Cody, leaning forward to ease the pull in his chest. "I already had him working without a cleaning crew. It would have taken him hours to drag them all down to maintenance by himself. Besides, I have a feeling that he'll be less untrusting if Hunter helps smooth things over . . ."

"Smooth things over for what? What are you thinking?"

"I want you to let me teach them. Without help."

Havoc paused mid-sip. "You're here for how many more days?"

"Six," said Cody. "And I am more than able to teach, even while on medical leave."

"I wasn't going to say anything," the ARC retorted. He frowned thoughtfully into his cup. "You'll probably get a sight farther with them than I did."

Cody quirked an eyebrow. "You'd have gotten through to them, Havoc. They do respect you."

"Could have fooled me."

"Yeah, because they're a bunch of cadets with too much energy, too much awareness of how they _don't_ fit in, and they've been shunted around to – how many instructors now?"

"Sixty-one," Havoc replied. "And they were all bounty hunters, with the exception of myself and Colt."

"Exactly." Cody tapped his fingers against the table's edge. "It's strange that no one seems to have heard of them, up until a few weeks ago."

"Experimental," reminded Havoc. "They were probably more of a side project, until the war started, anyway."

"True."

"I'll get you access to their records. I already updated Wrecker's and Hunter's medical notes. Hunter probably won't thank me for that. He seems to think he can just work through whatever those stun weapons do."

"But it could be dangerous, long-term," Cody agreed. "And Wrecker didn't seem to feel anything after being shot six times, which means he probably can't feel pain very well."

"Yeah – very dangerous. He'll get shot for real and never notice it."

That was another strange thing, Cody reflected – why hadn't the medical files been updated already? Surely the commandos' anomalies would have been noted by now.

Havoc's mind seemed to be traveling along the same lines. "I'll bet those records are new . . . Maybe Nala Se ran out of funds for her pet project and had to shift them over to the GAR."

"You're probably right," said Cody. "You said they like to use their squad name around her a lot."

Havoc rolled his eyes. "Yeah, they use it _excessively._ No other squad uses their name that much."

"And they have no official designation?" Cody checked.

"Right. The records are all messed up. In fact, as far as the army is concerned, they don't even exist."

Cody raised his mug in a toast. "My conclusion exactly. So, no one will be concerned if I bring them off-planet for a few days."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't planned on putting Monnk and Sunny in, but there you go. :)
> 
> Please consider leaving a review, especially if something in the story doesn't make sense, or is OOC. :)


	5. Chapter 5

At precisely twenty-two hundred, Cody and Havoc were standing on the balcony above the arena as the lift rose into view, carrying the members of Bad Batch.

All four of the commandos glanced up at them, one after the other, but none of them spoke.

Havoc turned to Cody. "Want to talk to them, or should I just start?"

"Begin simulation," Cody answered. He leaned on the balcony railing, watching intently as the signal light flashed.

Just like last time, when the commandos burst into action, Wrecker charged forward into the droids, throwing them to either side.

This time, however, rather than hanging back, Hunter and Tech broke to the right, running toward the fortress while Crosshair stayed a little behind them, providing cover.

The instant Tech gained the fortress, Hunter swung around, knife in one hand and rifle in the other. "Crosshair!" he called. "We'll need a path to the lift!"

Although the sniper didn't reply, he did turn and begin taking out the droids that had moved past them. Hunter joined Wrecker at a run, taking out the droids that Wrecker missed.

"So far so good," Havoc commented, sounding impressed. "I've chewed 'em out a few times before, but they never really responded."

Cody kept his gaze on the action as he answered. "Yes, but they'd never lost for real either. Earlier today, they lost not just the objectives, but effectively their own lives. That was enough to shake their confidence. You can't teach people how they're wrong when they're always succeeding – or at least, when they're maintaining their own definition of success."

"Which for them is destroying the enemy," Havoc agreed. "I should have thought of that ages ago."  
Cody watched as Crosshair ran back to the fortress, ready to cover Tech the moment he came out. "I've wanted all the troopers I trained to succeed, but somehow . . ."

"You want these guys to succeed even more," Havoc finished, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yeah." Cody hadn't quite figured out why that was. Maybe it was because they seemed to need more help than other troopers . . .

"I've got the data!" Tech shouted, running out of the fortress.

"Want me to give the next set of orders?" Havoc asked.

"Switch it up," said Cody, his attention now on Hunter. "They've known what was coming so far. Let's see if they'll keep cooperating when the plan changes."

Havoc nodded and turned on the microphone. "Bad Batch! The lift is no longer your objective. New orders: get the data to the newly-marked safe zone!"

He pressed another control, and a green light glowed around one corner of the room, at the end opposite the lift.

Hunter dove to cover next to Tech. "Wrecker!"

The big clone jolted around, not having noticed that Hunter had stopped fighting, then rushed to join them.

Crosshair leaned out and shot down three more droids.

"Send in reinforcements," said Cody. "Keep them on their toes."

"New wave!" warned Tech, ducking back. "What's the plan, Hunter?"

Hunter holstered his pistol and reached toward Wrecker, who drew his own vibroblade and slapped it into his hand. Hunter cast a quick glance behind them. "We're clear to the lift," he said quickly. "I'm going to head that way, get their attention. Wrecker, Tech, get to the safe zone. Crosshair, you cover them."

Cody watched consideringly. Hunter was giving himself the most dangerous assignment by far, which was a good sign. On the other hand, the plan was unnecessarily reckless – it would have been just as easy to carve their way through the droids and get to the safe zone together.

 _No,_ he realized. _Hunter doesn't know what else we might do – he's keeping his options open._

Wrecker signaled the countdown, and Hunter lunged out into the open, sprinting directly across the droids' field of fire. Their lasers tracked him, always an instant too late as he turned and dodged. In fact . . .

Cody narrowed his eyes, leaning forward. "Havoc, is this being recorded?"

"Yes. You notice something?"

"I thought I did. We'll review the footage after."

Hunter dove to cover, somersaulting to a halt behind a barricade, then immediately vaulted over it, slashing through two droids at once. "Okay!" he shouted. "Break for it!"

While the droids were still focused on the sergeant's position, Wrecker rushed into the battle. He used his rifle as both a ranged and a melee weapon, switching between the two with complete ease.

Tech stayed partially behind him, taking out enemies on their left. He seemed easily able to focus on multiple droids at once – before he'd even fired on one droid, he'd already aimed his second pistol at another.

Crosshair stepped out from his own cover, shooting past Wrecker and Tech to help clear a path. Wrecker put his head down and charged straight through the remaining few droids in front of him, Tech staying close by as they ran for the safe zone.

"They're going to make it," Havoc said.

Cody nodded, glancing over the number of enemies. "Once they do, raise the central barricade."

Havoc raised an eyebrow. "You want them split up?"

"Yeah."

"I'll have to get Tech away from Wrecker . . ." Havoc turned on the microphone again. "The data must remain in the safe zone until the end of the simulation."

Tech and Wrecker glanced at each other, and Wrecker said, "Have fun guarding the data, Techie!"

Tech elbowed him out of the way and shot a droid. "Why don't _you_ guard it?"

"Not a chance!" Wrecker charged back out into the battlefield.

The instant he was far enough away, Havoc pressed a control.

A twelve-foot barricade rose along the center of the room, separating Wrecker and Hunter from Crosshair and Tech.

There was a half-second of surprised silence before Hunter shouted, "Tech, are you holding position?"

"Yes!" Tech yelled, ducking two lasers. "The problem is, I have very little cover!"

Cody focused on Crosshair, who was some distance from Tech. The question now was whether the sniper would help in the most effective way he could, or whether he'd just keep taking down droids.

Crosshair finished clearing the small group of droids that had been attacking him, then shifted aim and shot two that were approaching the safe zone. "Get to the left," he called, scarcely raising his voice.

Tech ducked again. "There are more droids on that side!"

Crosshair let out a huff of disgust and broke into a sprint, drawing his pistol and shooting to the side as he passed a few lone droids. " _Your_ left, Tech!"

"Oh. Sorry."

"Send in more droids on Crosshair's side," said Cody. "Give them a few seconds first, though."

On the other side of the barricade, Hunter and Wrecker had finished defeating their enemies and were now standing uncertainly near the wall separating them from the safe zone.

Havoc sent in another thirty droids, which entered near the lift.

"Behind you!" shouted Tech. "Reinforcements!"

Crosshair, busy fighting his way through the tightly-packed group in front of Tech, didn't reply.

"Sounds like they're in trouble," Hunter said. "We've got to help."

"How?" asked Wrecker. "The wall's too straight to climb."

Havoc glanced questioningly at Cody, who shook his head. He wanted to see whether Hunter and Wrecker would be able to work with what they had. The lift was still accessible – they could use the shaft to get beneath the barricade.

Crosshair advanced again, attempting to draw the droids away from Tech, and Cody nodded with approval.

Hunter glanced to either side of the room. "The lift," he said in realization. "Wrecker, get in the shaft and climb out on their side. First –"

He handed Wrecker his knife and sheathed his own. "Get me up top."

Cody raised an eyebrow in surprise. What was Hunter –

Hunter stepped onto Wrecker's latched hands, and the big commando flung him into the air.

Hunter landed on the narrow top, perfectly balanced, and immediately let loose a volley of lasers that scattered the droids surrounding Crosshair.

The sniper switched focus easily, stepping forward to give Hunter more room to maneuver while he fired at the reinforcements.

At the other end of the room, Wrecker hit the lift controls. The instant it had gone down far enough, he dropped onto it, ducked beneath the barricade, and vaulted out on the opposite side.

Between the four of them, the droids fell swiftly. It was over in moments, and Havoc reached for the button that would end the simulation.

Cody stopped him. "Wait . . . It's not over until they're all safe."

"Any more droids?" Wrecker called, sounding confused.

"No," said Hunter, as though suddenly realizing something. "Everyone, get in the safe zone!"

The moment all four of them were in the zone, Havoc powered down the simulation, stood, and turned. He opened his mouth to say something, then paused and rolled his eyes. "Cody, wipe that grin off your face."

Cody shot him an offended look and headed for the stairs.

"Fine, it wasn't a grin," corrected Havoc, following. "But it definitely bordered on a self-satisfied smirk."

Since that was, in all probability, an accurate assessment, Cody decided not to reply. He did clear his throat and make sure his expression was its normal level of neutral before stepping into the arena.

The commandos swung to face him. They'd all removed their helmets, Wrecker was grinning, and it seemed that Tech had just finished saying something – he was still making an emphatic gesture as he turned.

Cody turned to Hunter. "Your assessment, sergeant."

The grin faded from Wrecker's face and his eyebrows drew together in obvious confusion.

Cody waited.

"I think we did well, sir," Hunter replied evenly.

"Do you."

"Yes, sir."

Crosshair's eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Tech frowned.

"Good," said Cody pleasantly. "Because you did _very_ well."

The confusion in Wrecker's expression grew, Crosshair looked even more displeased, and Tech shook his head once, while Hunter simply stared at Cody as though he couldn't quite understand.

The Bad Batch, Cody thought, was extremely expressive. He raised an eyebrow at them. "Havoc, do you disagree with that assessment?"

Havoc stepped forward. "No. Bad Batch, you performed better in this simulation than I've ever seen you do before. Good job."

Wrecker grinned, but, for some reason, it seemed to take the other three a bit longer to accept Cody's and Havoc's words. A few seconds later, Hunter gave a cautious nod. "Thank you, sir."

Havoc folded his arms. "For the next six days, Commander Cody will be directing and overseeing your training."

Hunter's gaze flitted to Cody, then back. "Yes, sir."

"Good," said Havoc. "Report to Hangar A-Seven at oh-five-hundred. Dismissed!"

The four of them saluted and left. Hunter was in front, with Tech and Wrecker on either side, while Crosshair wandered along a little apart from them.

They hadn't quite reached the lift when Tech turned towards Hunter. Cody couldn't catch what he was saying, but judging by the tone of his voice, he was asking question after question. Hunter probably didn't have answers for any of them, either . . .

Once the lift doors closed over the sound of Tech's questions, Cody smiled to himself, sent for a droid cleaning crew, then headed back upstairs with Havoc.

"So," said Havoc, pulling up the video footage. "What caught your attention?"

Cody skimmed through it for a few moments, then paused. "Here. Hunter dodged a laser – twice."

"What's so unusual about that?" Havoc asked. "We've all done that lots of times."

"Yeah, but these ones were _behind_ him," Cody said.

Havoc watched the video, then replayed it. "That wasn't just timing, was it?"

"No." Cody slowed the video and zoomed in. "See – here, he's watching the droids in front of him . . . he's just about to go left, but he changes direction at the last second."

Havoc nodded slowly. "Heading left would have put him in the path of the laser."

"Exactly." Cody skipped to the next section. "And here he does it again."

Havoc replayed that part several times. "You think that has to do with his modification?"

"Yeah." Cody shut down the consol. "I'm thinking he can sense the lasers, like a Jedi – except without the Force."

Havoc gestured and led the way from the room. They took the lift for the barracks level, and Havoc turned right, toward the ARC barracks. "It makes sense. It would explain how Hunter never got hit during the tests I gave them, even when the others did."

Cody nodded his agreement as they entered the dimmed barracks. There were only a few troopers sleeping there, despite the time of night, but Havoc and Cody were careful to be quiet anyway. ARCs got a little aggressive when woken suddenly from sleep.

Especially ARCs-in-training. Cody grinned.

"What?" whispered Havoc, setting his kama on the armor rack.

Cody hung up his jacket. "Just remembering the time Rex got into a scuffle with Keeli and woke up Wolffe."

Havoc snorted. "Bet that was epic."

"He chased them out, actually," Cody reminisced. "I watched."

"Heh. Nice of you."

Cody stretched carefully. "Hey, I'd warned them. Twice."

Havoc snickered and sprang up the ladder into his bunk. "Cadets, right? They never believe you when you try to warn 'em. Blitz and Blaze are still like that, and they already graduated ARC school."

Someone across the room groaned dramatically. "How about you quit yapping and let us poor overworked ARCs get some shut-eye?"

"Sorry, Thorn," Havoc whispered loudly. He leaned an elbow on the edge of his mattress and looked down at Cody. "You leaving early tomorrow?"  
"Figured we might as well." Cody glanced at the low bunk and tried to calculate the best way to lie down without twisting in either direction. "Will you be on duty?"

"No. I'll see you off."

"Okay. 'Night." Cody knelt on one edge of the mattress and collapsed face-first into the pillow. He was asleep before he could bother thinking about a blanket.

* * *

It was oh-four-hundred, and Hunter had just finished putting on his gear when the city-wide storm alert sounded, waking his squad mates up. Wrecker hopped up and hurried to the armor rack, while the other two regarded Hunter from the upper bunks.

He glanced between them. "What is it?"

"You must be eager to start," Tech observed sleepily, resting his chin in his hands.

"Couldn't sleep," Hunter said, twirling his knife between his fingers.

Crosshair sniffed. "Well, _some_ of us would like to sleep until oh-four-thirty."

Hunter rolled his eyes – for some reason, Tech and Crosshair were always alert when they first woke up, but if they went back to sleep, it was nearly impossible to get them fully awake for another hour. "Guys . . ."

"No," said Tech deliberately, and put his pillow over his head.

Crosshair rolled over to glance at him, then followed his example.

Hunter resigned himself to having to wake them and went out to the hall, where Wrecker joined him a few minutes later. "Is that storm gonna be a bad one?" he asked.

"Not really," said Hunter, putting away his datapad. "That warning was mostly for the pilots. Let's grab breakfast."

Wrecker shrugged his agreement, and they set off for the mess hall. When they'd gotten in the lift, Hunter said, "Wrecker, what do you think of the new commander?"

"I dunno." The doors opened, and Wrecker headed out. "He's different . . . Why are you asking?"

Hunter, walking quickly in order to keep up, said, "I think he can help us."

Wrecker gave him a nudge – a friendly nudge, but it still sent Hunter a couple steps to the right. "You've been worrying again."

"I can't _not_ worry," Hunter muttered. He'd never mentioned it to his squad, but when he'd dared Tech to access his squad's records a while back, it hadn't been just because he was bored. Seeing that they had no official designation had confirmed what he'd suspected for some time: he and his squad had never been expected to succeed.

 _Bad Batch . . ._ He smirked mirthlessly. _Except we actually turned out better than expected. Not good enough to be troopers, though._

They entered the mess hall, and Wrecker nudged him again. "Look, we've got the place to ourselves. Want to eat something real?"

Hunter's stomach twisted at the thought of food. "No. Do you?"

"I'm starved." Wrecker considered him. "You usually are, too. What happened, you nervous or something?"

"Or something," agreed Hunter, checking his chronometer. "Maybe I'll grab a caf."

"That's a bad idea," Wrecker said frankly.

Wrecker was absolutely right, but Hunter wasn't going to let something like that stop him. While Wrecker got food, Hunter marched to the beverages counter and put a disposable cup in the nearest caf machine.

Folding his arms, he tapped the fingers of one hand against the opposite elbow and waited. Thirty seconds later, he took the full cup and returned to the door, where Wrecker was waiting for him.

"I got some for both of us," Wrecker said, holding up a tray with two bowls. "They've got the good stuff this morning."

Hunter should have been more emphatic about _not_ wanting food. They couldn't waste it now, and Wrecker would refuse to eat it.

Hunter nodded his thanks, and they sat down at a table and ate in silence. The porridge still stuck in Hunter's throat, but Wrecker was right – it _was_ the good kind. For all that the serving droids had been specifically programmed to make specific meals, it wasn't often that they actually managed to make hot cereal the right way.

Granted, food was food and the clones didn't tend to be picky eaters. That being said, it was pleasant to have porridge that was smooth instead of full of lumps.

Hunter ate about half of it before shoving his bowl in Wrecker's direction. "Here, I'm going to grab ration bars for the others."

He finished his caf while doing that, and a few minutes later, he and Wrecker headed back to their bunkroom.

Wrecker immediately became occupied with cleaning his rifle – which didn't need cleaning – leaving Hunter to wake his squad mates.

He hopped onto the ladder and shook Crosshair. "Hey. We've got half an hour left, and it's a fifteen-minute walk to the hangar."

Crosshair mumbled something unintelligible that sounded like, "I'm awake."

Hunter was not fooled – Crosshair had talked in his sleep before. He shook him again. "I'll believe that when I see it. Come on, Cross . . . Hey, wake up or I'll sic Wrecker on you."

Crosshair finally jacked himself up with an exasperated huff. "I'm _awake_ already."

Hunter raised an eyebrow at him and crossed the room to Tech's bunk. "Tech, we're gonna be late."

Tech didn't budge. Maybe he'd suffocated himself.

Hunter removed the pillow from over his head to find that Tech was completely asleep. Hunter sighed. He probably should have made Tech and Crosshair get up earlier, but, for whatever reason, they always had a hard time falling asleep at night, despite being on exactly the same schedule as Hunter and Wrecker.

This morning, around oh-one-hundred, Hunter had woken to see Tech lying on his stomach, reading on his datapad while Crosshair prowled silently around the room, occasionally pausing when Tech looked up to whisper some fact or other at him.

Hunter had told them both to get some sleep, of course, and _both_ of them had rolled their eyes. They'd obeyed at least outwardly, but he didn't know when they'd actually fallen asleep, only that they were both dead to the world when he woke again at oh-two-fifteen.

Hunter shook Tech again. "Tech? Come on, we brought those ration bars you like."

Ten seconds later, when Tech still hadn't moved, Hunter climbed farther up the ladder and said, "Tech, you've got thirteen minutes before we have to leave. I'll tell Wrecker to carry you."

"No," mumbled Tech.

"I'll do it, too," threatened Wrecker from the other end of the room.

Tech sighed heavily and sat up. " _Hunterrrrrr_ . . ."

Hunter gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and jumped down to the ground. "Come on. You guys can sleep later."

Tech shot him an uncharacteristically grumpy look, but got up.

They managed to be ready a couple of minutes early, and Hunter handed them a couple of ration bars each, which they ate in silence as the squad walked through the city towards Hangar A-7.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of notes: first, Blaze is the name I decided to give to the 'unidentified ARC trooper' in 'Clone Cadets' and 'Arc Troopers'. He's got dark red on his armor, and can be seen standing behind Shaak Ti while she fights off droids at one point. Blitz and Blaze are, in my mind, a little bit like Fives and Echo - batchmates, a bit insane, y'know. . . :D
> 
> In the story reels, Crosshair falls asleep during the landing near the Poltec village - I seem to remember it happening one more time as well, but maybe that's just me. *?* At any rate, I figure he and Tech would be the kind of people to have a hard time settling down. Hunter, on the other hand, falls asleep just fine and then can't stay that way. He still gets more sleep than they do, though. Wrecker goes from being awake to asleep the instant he lies down, and from being asleep to awake the instant he gets up. Lucky. :D


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise - you get an early chapter . . .! :D I mean - I could wait until Monday night to post, but why would I do that?
> 
> Actually, I'm hoping to post another chapter of Misadventures on Tuesday, so that's the real reason you get this early. That, and I finished early. ;P

The hangar was empty at this time of the morning, but the wide doors were still open, letting in the cold, salty ocean air. Cody tucked his helmet beneath one arm and leaned against the door's edge, listening to the endless swelling and crashing of the waves as he checked through the list of available shuttles.

A sheet of rain blew into the room, scattering droplets over his armor and the datapad, and he paused to brush them off the screen.

He'd already notified General Kenobi of his intentions, and the Jedi had given his permission for the extended leave of absence. The fleet was still orbiting Coruscant, and would be for the next ten-day at least, so he saw no reason for Cody to return yet.

"Besides," the general had added wryly in his comm message. "There are enough of us here with very little to do."

That was probably more than true. Cody was sure that his fellow commanders in the 212th would be ordering a _lot_ of practice drills during the next couple of weeks.

A door hissed open, and footsteps approached. Cody scrolled past the GAR shuttles. He wanted something without a military transponder code, but it still needed to be fast and . . . _Hm, this looks like a good one._

The footsteps halted behind him. "Bad Batch reporting, Commander," said Hunter.

Cody turned off the screen and faced the commandos. "Right on time. Any of you boys know how to pilot?"

He'd gotten their records this morning, but hadn't had time to review them yet.

Hunter nodded. "Yes, sir. We've all taken basic flight training."

"Any of you particularly proficient?"

"Tech got the highest scores in the sims," said Hunter.

Cody found it interesting that all of them seemed willing to let Hunter speak for them. Then again, he'd observed as much yesterday, which was why he intended to work with each of them by themselves.

For now, though, he turned on the datapad and joined them, turning the screen so they could see the shuttle. "Tech – could you pilot this?"

Tech leaned closer, then straightened, adjusting his goggles. "That depends on what situation I would be piloting it _in,_ " he said. "I do not have experience flying that particular craft, but I could certainly perform basic maneuvers."

"Good enough," said Cody, notifying Havoc of his decision. He clipped the datapad to his belt and headed for the door. "I'll make sure it's fueled and ready to go. You boys get your supplies together. We leave in an hour."

"Yes, sir," said Hunter, following a few paces behind with his squad mates trailing after him. "Commander, are we flying to a different city?"

"No. Your records show that you've never been off-planet, so we're headed to Vinnda Prime as soon as I get clearance. I'll meet you back here."

None of them replied to this, and Cody smirked to himself as he headed towards Tipoca City's command center, leaving the commandos to return to their quarters.

When he arrived, Shaak Ti was already there, quietly listening as some clone technicians explained the inner workings of the security system to her. When she saw Cody, she lifted a graceful hand to forestall the trooper. "A moment, please," she said. "I must speak with the commander, but I will return."

"As you wish, ma'am."

Shaak Ti tucked both hands into her wide sleeves and went out into the hall. One trooper accompanied her, holding position at a respectful distance as she turned to face Cody. "Commander Cody."

"Apologies for the interruption, General," Cody said. "I spoke with Havoc and evaluated the troopers in question."

She gave him a knowing look. "You wish to speak with me regarding their lack of status as troopers."

Cody paused, momentarily caught off-guard. "Yes, ma'am. I was under the impression that you were unaware of their situation."

"I was," Shaak Ti replied calmly, a faint hint of amusement entering her lavender eyes. "As the Jedi in charge of overseeing the troopers' training, I did not have the clearance to view experimental unit files. However, I spoke with Commander Colt on the matter last night."

She inclined her head, causing the beaded decorations on her headpiece to sway back and forth. "Colt informs me that their situation leaves you free to pursue more unorthodox decisions as regards their training and assignations."

Cody raised a skeptical eyebrow. _Colt would assume that I'd be unorthodox about the situation,_ he thought, ignoring the fact that he intended to do exactly that. "Yes, General. Requesting permission to take the Bad Batch off-world for the next six days."

"Aren't you on medical leave?" she asked, almost mischievously, then waved a hand as though brushing the question aside. "Permission granted. Have you chosen one of the usual planets?"

Cody nodded briskly, wondering whether the Jedi liked to throw people off-balance, or whether it was just something they did habitually. "The training grounds on Vinnda Prime aren't scheduled for use during the next week."

"Very well." She gestured to a nearby clone, who was already typing the information into a datapad. "Thank you, Lock. Would you see that the necessary people are notified?"

Lock saluted and went back into the room, and Shaak Ti considered Cody, her eyes strangely serious and distant. "I sense this mission will be very important, Cody. These troopers you want to help . . ." Her voice faded, and she shut her eyes for a moment in thoughtful silence.

Cody waited. He'd seen General Kenobi do that a few times, and even General Skywalker – it was as though the Jedi were trying to hear a distant but important voice. He supposed it had something to do with the Force.

Shaak Ti opened her eyes again, and their lavender tones were gentle and somewhat sad as she looked at him.

"General?" asked Cody, confused.

"Apologies," she said softly. "The Jedi are one with the Force, Cody, but we spend our lives struggling to understand it. I am not skilled with seeing the future, nor do I attempt to, but I feel . . . I am certain that these troopers will be extremely important in your own future."

Cody wasn't sure how that was a cause for sorrow. The first time Cody had worked with Rex, he hadn't known how important the little upstart would become to him, but there hadn't been anything sad about that. Apart from his friendship with Rex, each had saved the other's life at least twice. General Ti might have foreseen some danger or other, though it still didn't explain why she looked sad. Maybe he was completely mistaken about her expression.

Shaak Ti blinked slowly. "The future is an ever-changing thing," she said. "Some futures are darker than others, and yet we cannot guide our choices by what might happen . . ." Her gaze landed on him, and she smiled faintly. "But you clones know that better than most. Forgive my wandering, Commander."

Cody shook his head. "No need, ma'am."

She bowed graciously. "Then I wish you safe travels. May the Force be with you."

Cody saluted. "And with you, General."

He wasn't a Jedi, but he'd been around them enough by now to know the proper response. Not that he'd informed his fellow officers about that. Seeing them short-circuit as they tried to figure out how to answer correctly was always prime entertainment.

Cody headed down to the medbay, checking his messages on the way. Just as he'd expected, there was one from Stitch.

_Cody, you've been gone for three days. That means you still have four days of enforced medical leave. What part of 'enforced medical leave' says 'off-world training mission' to you? I swear, if you come back here with any new injuries, I'll never let you hear the end of it. Get a medic to check your injury before leaving Kamino._

Poor Stitch. As CMO, he would of course have been updated on Cody's whereabouts by the general. He paused in the door of medbay to send a reply. _Roger that, Stitch. I'm headed to the training course on Vinnda Prime with some cadets. Nothing too strenuous. At medbay now._

Ten minutes later, after the Kaminoan doctor had run scans and cautioned him to be careful, Cody headed back to the hangar, where he'd be meeting Havoc. His datapad beeped again. Predictably, it was Stitch.

_I received the updated scans. Be careful out there, Commander._

Cody typed a quick response, stepping to one side to let a patrol of cadets hurry past him. _It's Vinnda Prime. There won't even be any other troopers there, just myself and four cadets._ Then, because he was feeling generous, he added, _I'll be careful._

He went back to the hangar, where Havoc was standing beside the shuttle Cody had requested, directing several troopers as they carried boxes of supplies up the ramp.

"So, what do you think?" Havoc slapped the side of the shuttle. "Fueled, stocked, and ready to go."

"Fast work," noted Cody, pacing the length of the ship. "I saw the shuttle hadn't been used by the GAR yet. Not enough room?"

"Not for more than a couple of squads," agreed Havoc. "It belonged to one of the bounty hunters, but he swapped it in for a military-grade ship last month. We don't usually have single squads on training missions. What made you pick this one?"

Cody grinned. "It's in prime condition, and the engines were modified for speed."

Havoc shook his head. "Well – if you destroy it, at least the GAR isn't out a registered shuttle."

"Finished, sir," reported a trooper, saluting. "Anything else?"

"No," replied Havoc.

"Thanks for the help," Cody added.

"Anytime, Commander." The troopers left at a brisk walk. As they neared the door, they almost collided with Monnk, who entered before the door had fully opened.

Cody and Havoc exchanged glances at their fellow commander's expense, then eyed him patiently as he approached at full speed. He was wearing his grey uniform, and had situated his hat at a jaunty angle.

Monnk stopped in front of them and tilted his head. "What's with the disapproving stares?"

"Standard procedure for clumsy batchmates," said Cody mildly. "Those poor troopers were just doing their jobs, and you almost ran over them."

Monnk grinned. "Show some gratitude. I'm here to see you off so _you_ don't have to walk all the way to my command ship."

Cody smirked. "Considerate."

"I thought so." The smile faded from Monnk's face, and he impulsively threw an arm around Cody's shoulders. "Be careful. I'll be gone by the time you get back, so who knows when we'll run into each other next."

"Hopefully, it'll be soon," Cody said sincerely, turning to shake Monnk's hand. "Take care of yourself out there, Monnk."

"Same to you." Monnk glanced over his shoulder and stepped back. "Hey, looks like your cadets are here."

Cody looked to the side, where the four members of Bad Batch stood just inside the doorway, looking slightly out of place.

"They're scared of me," whispered Monnk.

Havoc snorted. "Your own rookies aren't scared of you."

Monnk grinned as though he'd just been paid a high compliment, and Cody wondered how Monnk, out of all the commanders, had managed to be assigned to General Fisto, out of all the Jedi. He shook his head.

Monnk glanced at him. "Well – I should head out. Good luck, Cody."

Cody smiled faintly and nodded, then watched him leave with an all-too-familiar sense of worry. He felt it every time one of his batchmates headed out for the first time.

Turning to the cadets, he called, "Bad Batch, form up!"

They approached swiftly and saluted.

"Commanders," greeted Hunter, his helmet tilted slightly as he glanced between them.

"Looks like you're ready to get started, Cody," Havoc said. "I'll see you when you get back – all of you," he added, glancing at the commandos.

They saluted again, and Havoc left.

Cody eyed the four troopers for a moment, then mounted the boarding ramp. "Come on, men. Let's get settled in."

Turning right from the door led Cody directly into the cockpit. He glanced over it briefly before setting his helmet in the co-pilot's chair and heading to the left instead.

This room was a small galley, currently empty of supplies – those were probably in the cargo bay at the moment. The door leading out of the galley opened directly into an area with a metal bed frame set in the center of the room, a small computer terminal, and a built-in closet and storage area. There wasn't much floor space.

"This is the bunkroom," Cody told the silent commandos. "Currently without bunks."

They didn't reply, but that was to be expected. They would probably become lively enough once Cody gave them a task and made himself scarce.

He left the bunkroom, slipping past Hunter to reach the hall again, and went back to the main door. A very short hall led along the outside of the cockpit wall and into the cargo hold, which was empty apart from the crates of supplies Havoc had ordered loaded. Cody glanced at them – food, water, ammunition, medical supplies, survival gear.

The inside of the shuttle was certainly not divided as efficiently as it might have been. Then again, there had been only a single bounty hunter occupying it.

"There's a door here," Tech piped up suddenly, pointing to a trap door behind the cockpit area. He dropped to his knees and pulled it open, then scurried down the ladder without waiting for orders.

After a moment's hesitation, Hunter followed.

Cody glanced at Crosshair and Wrecker, who were hanging back. "This shuttle is our base for now," he said. "Start unpacking and arranging the supplies."

Wrecker pulled his vibroblade, jabbed one end into the sealed edge of the nearest crate, and jacked it free. "Medical stuff," he said. "We can keep that in the galley, right?"

"That works," said Cody, hopping onto the ladder. He climbed down and turned to see where Hunter and Tech had got to. It was completely dark and silent, apart from a faint shuffling across the room. "Anything of interest down here?"

"Not much," said Hunter from just beside him.

Cody repressed a startled jump. "Care to turn the lights on?"

"I'm looking," said Tech from the other side of the room. "They do not appear to have been conveniently placed."

  
Cody regretted leaving his helmet in the cockpit. Reaching up, he felt along the wall near the ladder, then on the opposite side. Nothing, nothing . . . he reached farther up, and his fingers just brushed a control. He pressed it, and the lights flickered on.

"Thought you said you looked there, Tech," Hunter commented laconically.

Tech shot him a disgruntled look. "I _told_ you I wasn't tall enough."

Cody chuckled. "So, what's down here?"

Hunter shrugged once. "Refresher's over there, but the rest of this place looks like a secondary cargo hold."

"Probably for bounties," Cody told him. "I've got Crosshair and Wrecker unpacking supplies. Tech, you want to fly us out of here?"

Tech turned to Hunter, who looked back at him without making any sort of indication.

Cody raised an eyebrow, and Tech said, "Yes, sir."

"Good. Get the engines started and contact flight control. I'll join you in a moment."

Tech climbed up quickly, and Hunter said, "I'll be helping the others, unless you have other orders."

"I'll let you know if I have any orders for you. Go ahead." Cody waited until he had climbed up before carefully making his own way up the ladder.

The engines vibrated to life just as he reached the cockpit. Tech had removed his helmet and was setting controls and flipping switches with the ease of long practice.

Cody slid into the co-pilot's seat and strapped in, quietly checking the readouts on his side of the control board. Everything was ready to go – Tech had even input the coordinates for the Vinnda system, but now he was staring at the diagnostics, not making a move toward the communications panel.

Cody eyed him. "Tech? Everything all set?"

"Oh!" Tech jolted in surprise and blinked. "I'm sorry, Commander. I was observing the differences between this ship and the standard supply shuttle."

"You can do that when you _aren't_ in the pilot's seat," Cody reproved.

"Yes, sir." Tech reached for the comm, then hesitated. "Commander, what is this shuttle's designation? It has no military code assigned."

"It's registered as the _Marauder,_ " said Cody.

Tech nodded and pressed the button. "Flight control, this is the _Marauder,_ requesting permission to take off."

 _"Hold off,_ Marauder," said a clone's voice. _"You're not scheduled for departure."_

Tech tilted his head quizzically.

Cody leaned forward. "This is CC Twenty-Two Twenty-Four," he said. "General Ti approved our departure less than an hour ago. Re-check the orders – they might not have gone through yet. The ship is not GAR-issued."

 _"Copy that, Commander. One moment."_ There was a short pause. _"Please confirm location in Hangar A-Seven."_

"Location in Hangar A-Seven confirmed," said Cody.

 _"Thank you, sir._ Marauder, _you are cleared for take-off."_

"Copy that," said Tech, and clicked off the comms.

Cody folded his arms across his chest and leaned back as Tech guided the ship out of the hangar and into the atmosphere. A couple of minutes later, they made the jump to hyperspace.

"I've set the proximity alert," Tech said. "However, the flight will be short enough that I could remain here for the duration."

"No need," Cody told him. "Let's see how the others are doing."

Tech followed him into the galley, where Crosshair was silently re-arranging everything on the storage racks. It looked as though someone had loaded the supplies, but not bothered to sort the dry rations from the MREs or the beverages.

Cody could hear someone slamming crates around in the cargo hold. Judging by the amount of noise, it was probably Wrecker.

Tech seemed to draw the same conclusion. "Where's Hunter?"

Crosshair jerked his head toward the bunkroom. "In there."

His words were confirmed by a thump, then a louder thud, followed by a viciously muttered complaint.

There was a short pause.

"He's trying to take apart that bedframe," clarified Crosshair. "Said there wasn't enough room."

"I'll go help him," sighed Tech.

He vanished, and Cody checked his datapad briefly, then realized that the sniper was still watching him. "Got a question, trooper?" he asked easily.

" . . . No." Crosshair shifted a sealed box of ration bars from one shelf to the next, then secured the loaded shelf with the fold-down metal restraints.

Cody tilted his head. "You sure about that? Because I'd have a lot of questions if I were you."

This seemed to give Crosshair pause, because he actually blinked once before narrowing his eyes again and returning to his work.

Cody headed back to the cockpit. He remembered the training course on Vinnda Prime quite well, since he'd been there with several groups of commandos over the past couple of years. However, the challenges on the course had been designed with multiple squads in mind – and most of the time, they had been designed to pit multiple squads against each other.

He accessed the area map on his datapad and leaned back to consider it. He was definitely going to have to get creative with this . . .A few minutes later, he shifted into a slightly more comfortable position and pulled up the squad's records. The flight would be several hours long – he'd read through the records while he waited.

It would be interesting to see what the commandos decided to do once they ran out of tasks with which to keep themselves busy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foreshadowing . . . ! ':|
> 
> Ahem.
> 
> Anyway, in case any of you are not reading 'In the Shadows' at this point, I'll just repeat a possibly irrelevant theory of mine that I'd mentioned: the commandos were decanted a couple days apart - Wrecker first, then Hunter, then Crosshair, then Tech.
> 
> A possibly interesting note: while writing all of these Kamino chapters, I listened to a video of Kamino exterior ambience. Then, because I scarcely ever write without music, I opened Youtube in another tab and simultaneously played a collection of quiet Halo music. It worked surprisingly well. :)


End file.
